


Someone Reaching Back For Me

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, CW: Job Hunting Stress, Except Tony is still Iron Man, Get Together, Happy Ending, Homelessness, Insecurity, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Relationship Issues, Romance, Tony Puts Up a Homeless Steve, lol, that's the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Steve is sickly, unemployed, broke, and homeless.All he has left is a business card with a rather hard to get phone number on it.





	Someone Reaching Back For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fluffypanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffypanda/gifts).



> This is for fluffypanda who put the prompt in MCU discord that started all of this! Thank you and thank you for the alpha read as well! This fic owes its entire existence to panda :D
> 
> Thank you to ashes0909 for beta.

"Just three more days, Mrs. Fairfax, please. I can get you enough for two weeks if you just give me three more days, and then I'll pay the rest when -"

"No! I've given you too many extensions already, Rogers. This isn't a charity, it's my livelihood. You're out of time. I need to you leave. I know you're a good kid, so don't make me call the cops."

Steve swallowed heavily. He squeezed the phone in his hand. "Yes, I get it. I won't. I'll be gone by tonight."

Mrs. Fairfax hung up, leaving Steve alone on his apartment floor. Well - not his apartment floor anymore. He couldn't afford a floor, or a ceiling, or a couch. At least there wouldn't be much to move out - almost everything had been sold in bits and pieces over the last few weeks, a fifty dollar bill here and a a fiver there keeping him going, but just barely. And now, it seemed, barely had caught up to him and it was suddenly not at all.

Steve tipped over on his side and stared forlornly at the few articles of clothes he had left, tossed around the single, shabby room. He had nowhere to go - nowhere. He only had two friends in the world and neither could put him up. Bucky would say yes, of course, but there were two reasons why Steve couldn't stay with him: Clint and Alpine. Clint had taken up Bucky's hospitality long before Steve had needed it, crashing on the couch in his tiny studio apartment for weeks now so they could split rent. But, even though Bucky would let Steve sleep on the floor - or even crammed into his bed with him, if need be - Steve was violently allergic to cats, and in the small space, there was nowhere Alpine could be kept. With no money, Steve couldn't afford the allergy pills that would let him be around Alpine for an hour, let alone all the time for days, and an allergy attack could set off his asthma and put him in the hospital, which he _definitely_ couldn't afford.

And Sam - two months ago, Sam would have been the logical choice, but he'd moved in with his grandmother when her dementia got bad, and now, not only was there no space there for Steve, but he would upset the poor woman, who was stressed around strangers, and almost everyone was a stranger to her now. No, Steve couldn't ask Sam.

He looked back down at his phone. There were seven only contacts listed in it. Bucky, Clint, Sam, two potential design clients - one of whom would owe him money in three days and he'd finally have a little breathing space - the hospital that had fired him two months ago and -

Well.

This definitely wasn't the kind of emergency that Iron Man'd had in mind when he gave Steve his hotline number. Definitely. But Steve was desperate, more desperate than he thought it was possible to be, and Tony Stark was a man with power and influence. Maybe there was a shelter he could get Steve into for a few days. He had pull. There was no way he'd remember Steve, but anyone who was good enough to fly a metal suit around the city saving people's lives would at least be polite about hanging up on him, right?

The gaping maw of hunger, the painful chill of cold, and the very real knowledge that a night on the street with his shitty lungs could kill him, all pushed Steve past the horror of such a social faux pas, and he dialed.

**

_Iron Man reached out a metal-covered hand and levered Steve to his feet. "Hello again," he said through the voice modulators. He sounded almost amused. Steve frowned and crossed his arms over his dusty t-shirt._

_"Hello. Thank you." Steve cleared his throat. "Again."_

_"You are kind of accident prone, aren't you?"_

_Steve's jaw dropped. "Excuse me? Being taken hostage by a crazy robot thing -"_

_"Doom bot."_

_"- is not an accident."_

_Iron Man's hands went to his hips, and Steve wished he knew Tony Stark well enough to imagine the face he was making. "Hmm. The bridge collapsing was definitely an accident, though."_

_Steve sighed. "I'm just in the wrong place at the wrong time a lot." His cheeks heated as he realized how ungrateful he sounded. "Thank you, though. Really. You've saved my life twice now."_

_"It's not going to happen again, is it?" Iron Man surveyed the damaged street, and Steve slumped feeling like it was somehow his fault._

_"God, I hope not. But probably."_

_Iron Man considered him for a moment. "How did you end up on that side of the railing, anyway? Everyone else was down the street."_

_Steve sighed. "There was an older woman who got her purse caught on the railing. I was helping her get unstuck and then I couldn't get back over before the the bots came in."_

_Iron Man chuckled, the sound oddly metallic, then a flap popped open on the suit and he pulled out a card. He handed it to Steve. "You seem like the type who attracts the kind of attention 911 isn't equipped to handle - no offense. So if you get into trouble, call me."_

_"What?" Steve stared at the number on the card. "Really?"_

_"Sure. I can't be everywhere all at once. And after two situations like this? It seems like the universe has a 'kick me' sign on your back." Iron Man reached out and patted Steve's shoulder hard enough to rock him in place. "See ya around!" The repulsors wound up and he blasted away, leaving a dust-covered, slightly confused Steve alone with the approaching EMTs and clean-up crews. He looked back at the card._

_Huh. Tony Stark's number._

**

The phone only rang once before it connected and Steve sat up straighter, clearing his throat.

"Hello, you've reached the Iron Man hotline," Tony's voice said serenely. "Press one for Iron Man."

There were no more options listed.

Steve looked down at his phone then pushed the one key. It beeped loudly, and Tony immediately started laughing. "I can't believe you did that."

Steve opened and closed his mouth. "I can't believe _you'd_ do that on your emergency line!"

"You are currently in an upper floor apartment in Brooklyn with no fire, evil villains, earthquakes, or other people threatening you, so if this is an emergency, it's the slow kind. Figured you could use a laugh."

"I - oh. How do you know all that?"

"I built a tin can that flies and you think I can't trace a cell phone call?" There was a loud crash, and Tony cursed softly. This conversation wasn't going anything like Steve had expected.

"Oh. Right."

"So what can I help you with, Steven Grant Rogers?"

"Um." Steve took a breath then started his practiced speech. "I'm sure you don't remember me, but -"

"You're the guy who got taken hostage by a Doombot."

"What?"

"You're the guy who had a bridge dropped on him and then two months later got snagged by a Doombot during a firefight. You told me it was probably going to happen again. I remember you."

"Oh."

"Is that why you called?" Tony sounded amused of all things.

"Shit, uh no. I'm just - Right. So… you said to call if I was ever in trouble, and well, I'm sure this isn't the sort of trouble you meant - like you said, there's no villain or fire or… anything. But. Well." This time, Tony failed to fill the silence with chatter, and Steve found himself forced to go on. "I lost my job a few weeks ago and - and -" Steve's throat started closing up and his voice hitched "- I just lost my apartment today. I don't have anywhere to go. I just need three days and then I'll get paid in advance for another gig I have and I can find a new job and a new apartment, but I was just wondering if maybe you had a connection at a shelter or something. I don't mind spending the night on the street, but I have really bad asthma and no health insurance and I just -" Steve cut himself off before he could ramble anymore. "Sorry," he added.

"Uh, yeah." Tony sounded uncomfortable, and Steve winced, opening his mouth to apologize again and hang up, but then Tony said. "Dammit - I gotta run - shit - but I'll text you an address, okay?"

"Really? I'm - yes, okay. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"No problem. Shoot I really gotta -" The line cut off.

Steve was left staring at his phone, utterly perplexed. A moment later, it buzzed with a text.

_200 Park Avenue_.

Oh. That couldn't be right.

_That's Stark Tower?_ Steve texted back.

_Give your name to the receptionist, they're expecting you. I really have to go. Bye!_

Steve set his phone down carefully and looked around at the ramshackle room around him. Somewhere, something skittered. Steve didn't look. Well, there must have been a reason for Tony to send him to the tower. Maybe there was a shelter in the building - it was huge and Tony was known for philanthropy - or maybe they'd give him a bus pass and directions once he got there. Either way, it seemed Tony was inclined to help him, at least a little, and at this point, Steve would take a hot meal and kind smile over nothing. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.

He started packing, but it didn't take long - there was almost nothing left. He shoved everything he could carry into his backpack and another duffle bag, including the last of his food and his photo album, then turned out the lights and stepped out onto the stairs. He locked the apartment then shoved the key back under the door and made his way down the stairs, his bag already making his shoulder ache.

He took the subway on the last of his change, fingers crossed the whole way that he hadn't just spent his only food money on a trip to nowhere, and got out at Grand Central.

Stark Tower loomed overhead when he stepped outside. It was so shiny and smooth and unblemished, and grimy, scrawny, broken Steve Rogers was about to come in and muck it all up. Here, his nerve failed when with the phone call, it had held. He made it up to the doors and hesitated. Inside, a long granite desk lined one wall, a huge mobile statue hanging overhead. There were security guards. They probably wouldn't even let him get close enough to the desk to tell anyone his name.

But Steve had no other option, and the only thing worse than calling Tony was asking for his help and then being too scared to take it. Steve pushed through the door, eyeing the guards nervously, and shuffled up to the desk.

The receptionist smiled kindly at him. "How can I help you, sir?"

"Um. Mr. Stark asked me to come here and give my name?" Steve didn't want to explain his entire situation again in front of all these people. "Steve Rogers."

"Oh, yes!" Something bright and interested flashed in her eyes. "He called down to let us know. One second -" She turned away and rummaged through a basket then came up with a badge hanging from a lanyard. She pointed across the room. "See that bank of elevators? Go to the farthest one on the right, with the red doors. Scan this barcode -" she tapped the badge "- and it'll take you right up."

"Okay." Steve took the lanyard. "And then it'll be obvious where I should go?" He still wasn't sure what awaited him here. Maybe Stark had a hotel built in and he was letting Steve stay the night? That'd be awfully kind of him.

But the receptionist looked confused. "Well, yes. It's a private elevator. It doesn't go anywhere else. You won't get lost."

"Thank you." Steve took the lanyard and draped it around his neck then hiked the duffle back up onto his shoulder. He went to the red elevator, still expecting someone to stop him and demand an explanation - which he'd hardly have - and tapped the badge against the scan pad. The red light turned green, and the doors opened.

If Steve had thought the front lobby was opulent, it was nothing to the inside of the elevator. Soft music piped in through a perfectly crisp speaker. Everything was shiny and luxurious, and Steve hovered in the middle, not wanting to leave fingerprints everywhere. There were no buttons; the elevator just started moving up the moment the doors closed.

The trip was short, and Steve barely felt the stomach drop of the elevator slowing to a halt. Instead, the doors suddenly sprung open and he was nearly a hundred stories in the air. He could tell, because the doors opened on a stunning living room with one wall that was entirely glass, and he was very clearly near the top of the tower, high above the rest of the city.

"Wow." Steve took a few steps forward, eyes glued to the windows.

"Not a bad view, is it?" came a voice behind him, and Steve yelped and spun around. Tony Stark was leaning against the wall, next to the elevator door, his eyes tracking out to the horizon, a drink in his hand. His gaze cut to Steve and he gave him the once over.  

Steve realized with a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach that this was Tony's private apartment. He'd brought Steve here to finish their conversation, maybe interview him and see if he was worthy of assistance, and Steve hadn't showered, hadn't brushed his hair, hadn't changed his clothes. And he'd shown up lugging around a backpack with a broken zipper and a dingy duffle bag.

"I'm glad you made it."

Steve swallowed heavily and resisted the urge to smooth his hair down with his hand. That would only draw attention to it. "Thank you for uh - inviting me. I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was coming here or - or -"

Tony tilted his head to the side and smiled like he thought Steve was a particularly interesting puzzle, or a piece of abstract art. "Shower? Or food first? Or maybe you want a drink? I imagine it's been some kind of day."

"I'm - sorry, what?"

"What do you want first?" Tony crossed the room to stand in front of Steve. His brow creased. "You don't need medical help first, do you? Shit, I should have asked -"

"No, no. I'm fine. I'm okay. As long as you don't have a cat here." Steve offered him a weak smile.

"No pets. Just me." There was something almost wistful in Tony's voice, but Steve didn't know him well enough to trace it back to its source.

"Okay."

When Steve didn't have anything more to say, Tony reached out and tugged gently on one of his backpack straps. "Come with me."

Steve followed him up the stairs and down the hall to a heavy door. He tapped a pad next to the door and it clicked open audibly. Tony pushed through it and gestured Steve in after him. It was an entire second apartment attached to the first, like an in-law suite.

"So living room, kitchen, dining room, laundry - there's a small bathroom down there and then up here is the master and ensuite. Guest room here - though the dedicated elevator is coded for you only, right now. So if you bring a friend over, you'll have to check them in at the front desk. JARVIS can answer any questions you have, and if you need the thermostat adjusted or anything, just ask him. Uhh, he can also order takeout, so don't worry about brochures or numbers or anything, just tell him what you want and he'll find a place that can do it." Tony stilled hands on his hips. "I feel like I'm forgetting something."

"Uh - maybe one thing?"

"Yeah, what?"

"What… is happening?"

"Huh?"

"Is this - are you telling me I can stay here?"

Tony blinked. "You said you needed a place to stay. You called me."

"Well, yes, but I certainly wasn't expecting you to put me up in your own home!"

Tony tilted his head again. "Why not? I said I would help you if you had an emergency. You said you'd die if ended up on the street, or at the very least you'd end up in the hospital with debt up to your eyeballs. I can't leave you out there."

"I - I thought you might hook me up with a men's shelter. Or - or maybe a hotel room at the most. This is - I - how can you possibly want a stranger living in your home?"

Tony gave him a look, up and down, then grinned. "I think I can take you if you turn out to be a serial killer."

"Hey!" Steve crossed his arms over his bony chest. It wasn't like Tony was wrong, though. He was Iron Man - Steve certainly wasn't a threat. "Isn't it weird?"

"No weirder than a one night stand crashing in my bed. Strangers stay here all the time. Besides, you're not a stranger, you're Iron Man's most saved victim."

Steve groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "Really? There isn't anyone else you've saved more than once?"

"No one that I didn't directly put into danger myself."

"This -" Steve looked around at the apartment. "This is too much. I can't let you do this."

Tony shrugged. "You asked for help and this is how I help. It's not too much for me. And I get the feeling maybe it's been a while since you had something nice. Take a shower, Steve, order dinner, have a drink. If you don't want to stay, you're free to go at any time, but you're in the system now, so you're also free to come back."

The warmth of the room was seeping into Steve's bones and it smelled so good, almost sweet, like someone had just finished baking cookies. Steve's skin itched, and he ached for a hot shower with something more than a bar of soap to rub over his hair. "You sure it's okay?"

"I'm sure. I'm the richest man in America, bud." Tony clapped a hand to his shoulder and squeezed before letting go. "I challenge you to make a dent."

That drew a smile to Steve's lips. "I've been told I never back down from a challenge."

Tony barked out a laugh. He started moving towards the door. "I would honestly like to see you try. Enjoy your shower. Let JARVIS know if you need anything." And Tony was gone.

Steve took another trip around the apartment now that he was alone. The carpet squished under his shoes, and he hurriedly kicked them off and padded across the soft pile in his socked feet. The sun was just starting to set and the sky was filled with brilliant red and orange, but instead of stabbing through the windows, it was as if the glass cut the light off, keeping the bright hues but not letting the rays jab through into the room.

The kitchen was stocked, and Steve couldn't help grabbing a granola bar and eating it too fast, his stomach groaning with protein he hadn't been able to afford in a while. He drank straight from the tap then took his bags through to the bedroom. He ran his hand over the fluffy duvet but didn't dare risk sitting down. He might never get up again.

The shower was as opulent as the rest of the apartment, and Steve hesitated in front of the banks of dials and spray heads. He turned things until water came out, burning himself at first, not realizing that cranking these taps all the way to hot would actually make it come out hot instead of tepid.

There were many bottles of various cleaning things, and Steve smelled each one before settling on a woodsy, spicy scent that he found in both shampoo and conditioner. He took a breath and took his time, luxuriating in the hot water on his back and the feeling of getting right down to his scalp for the first time in a long time.

He was in the shower long enough that his knees ached and his skin was pink and tight, unused to not having the built-in timer of the water suddenly running ice cold after five minutes. He dried off then stumbled into the bedroom and lay out on the bed, needing to close his eyes for a few minutes while he radiated the heat that had penetrated his skin.

He woke up seven hours later.

Steve bolted awake, tumbling half off the bed before he caught himself, heart pounding and breath hitching into shocked lungs. "Oh shit." He checked his phone. It was five in the morning. But he had no job, and no need to make it to the bakery right when they opened to clear out the discount less-than-perfect buns basket before anyone else could. His stomach growled, and he pushed himself up and shuffled into the kitchen hesitantly, like Tony might jump out and yell, "Psych!" when he reached for an apple.

He reached for an apple and a loud bang reverberated through the apartment, making him yelp and jump away, clutching his chest. "Come in," he croaked, realizing someone was knocking on his front door.

Tony's head peeked around the door frame. "Hey. JARVIS said you were up. Breakfast?"

"I'm - okay?"

Tony opened the door all the way and beckoned Steve through it, back into the penthouse. As soon as he stepped through, the smell of food hit him hard enough that his stomach roared. There were chafing dishes - honest to goodness chafing dishes - set up on the long banquette by the bar. "What?"

"We have a catering kitchen downstairs for the employees. I asked them to send some stuff up when J said you'd be waking soon. Sorry, it's probably creepy that he can tell that kind of thing, but thankfully he can also tell when someone is about to have an asthma attack so it's all good? Plus, hot pancakes on demand."

Steve only understood about half of what Tony was saying, but the important part was "pancakes" and he couldn't help the almost desperate look he shot him at that word.

"Oh good! We have a pancake fan. Here." Tony pushed a plate into his arms and then guided him towards the banquette. When Steve hesitated, Tony took his own plate and slipped in front of him, pulling tops of dishes and peering inside, putting some on his plate and skipping a few. Steve shuffled along behind him, taking more food for one meal than he usually had in a day.

Tony led the way to the living room instead of the massive, imposing dining table and collapsed on the couch. He turned on the TV, but cranked the volume down low and switched it to a replay of a football game. "So," he said, conversationally, "you're okay, right?"

Steve stared while he chewed a heavenly mouthful of fluffy pancake and sweet syrup. "Pardon?"

"Like, food and a place to stay were your problems, right? You're not addicted to drugs, you don't owe the mob money, you're not a fugitive from the law? Not that I'd have a problem with any of those, I just need to know or I can't fix it."

"Why - why are you trying to fix it? And no, no I'm not any of those. I'm okay. Just… broke. And tired."

Tony shrugged. "I made my billions on the backs of death and despair and harm. I can't undo that. All I can do is try and make the good outweigh the bad, in the end. Saving people as Iron Man is… I dunno - reactive? I'm a problem solver at heart. Thankfully, all of your problems begin and end with money, and, well, I have that. Why shouldn't I use it this way? Also you kind of seem like you could use a friend and, uh… so could I?" He shook his head. "Talking to robots all day makes you weird."

"I'm -" Steve rolled it around in his mind. It would be nice, he thought, with a jealous twist that made him wince, to be able to chase whims like that, instead of just fighting to survive. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I only need three days. Then I have some money coming in and I can get by again."

"Hmm." Tony eyed him up. "Okay. Whatever you need."

"And, uh - you told the front desk people about me? They won't think it's weird if I come and go?"

"Nah, they'll just think you were so good last night that I paid for the whole week." Tony winked, and Steve blanched. Was that what Tony was really after? Did he think Steve was going to… pay him back? "Fuck - Steve I'm _kidding."_ Tony set his plate aside and leaned in, one hand on Steve's knee, brow furrowing. "Don't have a asthma attack. It was just a joke. No one thinks you're a hooker. I told them a friend was coming to stay with me for a little while and I didn't know how long. That's all."

Steve's cheeks flushed with heat. God dammit, he couldn't even take a joke. "No, no. It wasn't that," he hastened to cover up his embarrassment. "I just - it made me realize… there's, there's _no way_ I can pay you back for this, for any of this. And I don't just mean the money - I'm - I have nothing. I can't even - there's no favour - I'm -"

"Whoa, whoa. Who said anything about paying back? Seriously, I don't want anything from you, Steve. I promise. I'm being altruistic. Well, actually not, because I don't think it can be altruistic if you're doing it to waylay your own guilt, but that's probably not the best talk for this early in the morning."

"Oh, uh, yeah -" Steve flailed wildly for a change of topic. "Why are you up?"

Tony shrugged. "I'm always up. I guess. I don't know. There's no rhyme nor reason to my sleeping schedule. I'll probably hit the workshop later. There's a pool, by the way, and a movie theatre. And… stuff. Just ask JARVIS. He can give you the tour."

They fell into silence while Steve worked his way through a stack of bacon and toast.

_I don't want anything from you, Steve. I promise._

Two days, later, Steve started to wonder if that was really true.

**

Staying at Stark Tower was like being neighbours with a tornado. Tony was wild, unpredictable, and hadn't quite mastered the concept of privacy. He acted like an only child who had never had to share with a roommate, and Steve was fairly confident that that was indeed the case. Oddly, having Tony blast into his space whenever he wanted was comforting to Steve. He'd very rarely lived entirely alone, living with his ma, then hopping from room to room in heavily populated houses. His last place had only been just him at the end because his roommate had bailed around the time Steve had lost his job - just vanished with two weeks' rent unpaid.

JARVIS was also something to get used to. He was the building's computer, but he talked like a person, and could help Steve with almost anything, even talking him through recipes or helping him search for jobs. The kitchen turned out to be surprisingly exciting. Steve hadn't been able to cook much beyond ramen and rice for quite some time, but he liked to cook, had learned from his mom, and getting to cook extra and share it with Tony made it feel a little less like he was taking advantage of him.

The tower would have been too quiet without Tony's babbling, but Tony also had a way of scraping his eyes over Steve like he was seeing right through his clothes, a softness that crinkled the corner of his mouth when Steve spoke, and more than once, Steve looked up from scouting craigslist on his phone to catch Tony snapping his gaze away so fast he risked whiplash.

So even if Tony didn't _expect_ anything from Steve, he had a strong suspicion there was actually something he wanted.

And Steve found he really, really wanted it too.

**

Steve monitored his email all day Thursday, but when there was no contact from Mr. Parkes, and no change to the negative balance in his bank account, he realized he had to call them. He was just working up the courage when the phone rang. He was on Tony's couch, having just finished a game of Crazy 8s, and Tony was in an armchair nearby, sprawled across it like a teenager, a tablet balanced on his stomach.

Steve answered the call. "Hello?"

"Mr. Rogers?"

"Speaking."

"It's Mr. Parkes. Uh, yeah. So we've reviewed your proposal and we like what we see, but the timeline just isn't viable. Two months is longer than we wanted to budget for this project."

Steve took a steadying breath. They liked his work - that was what mattered most. "Yes, sir, I understand, but unfortunately I don't have constant access to my equipment at the moment, which causes the delay."

"We just can't wait. We need these brochures done asap."

"I understand." Steve stomped down the unease in his gut. He'd already asked Tony for so much, but surely borrowing one of the infinite computers in the house to do his work on wouldn't be much of a request? The library computers were only available a few hours a day, and Steve couldn't do his art on his phone. "If - if I could shorten the time frame? I have access to new equipment now," he said, praying that he really did. "I could -"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rogers, but we've already offered the contract to another provider and they've accepted. Your work is good, but you should really think about how you can improve the way you present yourself, the professionalism. Anyway… thank you. Take care."

"Shit…" Steve hung up and stared down at his phone. The heat of Tony's gaze bore into the side of his head, but he couldn't bear to look at him. "It's… I'm not getting paid. I was sure I was a shoe-in for this project but they gave it to someone else because I'm too slow."

"Fuck," Tony breathed. "I'm sorry."

Steve fought the tears that threatened his eyes. He was _not_ going to cry in front of Tony Stark. "I'm - I'm sorry. I don't know what to -" He'd said he was leaving, that all he needed was three days. But now what?

Tony's hand landed on his shoulder, and Steve realized he'd moved to sit beside him on the couch. "Don't worry about it right now. Let's watch a dumb movie or something. You wanna go out? We can go out. I can get on lists."

"I - no I have to keep looking for a job. I don't have time to be distracted…"

"You've got all the time in the world, Steve. Aren't you having fun here? You can stay as long as you need to. Don't stress."

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I can't rely on you forever, Tony. You've already been too kind."

"It's not forever. It's for now, okay? I'm not kicking you out because three days is up, so let's take this one and drown our sorrows, yeah?"

"Okay."

"So what do you want to do?"

"I - uh - I don't really feel like going out, if that's okay."

"No problem. What do you want?"

Steve looked around at the penthouse with all its lavish appointments. He was pretty sure Tony would do just about anything Steve wanted. But there was only one thing he missed, not having a TV for so long. "Honestly? All I want is pizza, beer, and baseball."

Tony laughed, a bright, heartfelt laugh, then winked at Steve. "You got it."

It was surprising - but probably shouldn't have been - that Tony knew as much, or even more, about baseball than Steve did. He had the specialty channels with all the extra talk, and a box in every MLB stadium in the country, when all Steve had was the radio. But they both got sucked into the game, arguing intensely about pitching choices and working their way through two boxes of pepperoni and extra cheese.

Steve found himself heaving with near-painful laughter more than once, reaching for his inhaler when his lungs seized up, and he caught Tony smiling over at him with a soft crinkle in his eye more than once as well.

When the game ended, they both slumped down on the couch, side by side.

"Did you say you need a computer to do your graphics work? You were going to the library?" Tony asked, clicking off the TV.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. It doesn't matter now. They gave the gig to someone else."

Tony shrugged. "Gotta stay fresh though, right? Buff up your portfolio."

"Uh. Yeah. Do you mind if I use something here? There's… there's a lot. Only if it's not a problem."

Tony waved one hand dismissively. "They'll be stuff in your room tomorrow."

"I really am sorry it's taking longer than expected," Steve muttered, cheeks heating as he picked at the label on his last beer bottle.

Tony rolled his head along the back of the couch until he was looking over at Steve. "Hey, you were the one with those expectations, not me. You can stay as long as you want. It's not like anyone else needs that space."

"Tony…" The three and a half beers gave Steve courage he didn't normally have.

"Yeah?"

"How many people did you give that card to as Iron Man?"

Tony smiled, turning his gaze back down to the empty popcorn bowl in his lap. "Ask me again when I'm less sober."

In some ways, that was all the answer Steve needed.

**

Steve woke up with a headache and a mission. He took three Advil and started writing out his plan. First, with JARVIS' help, he scrolled through all the local job postings and applied to every one that was even remotely up his alley. He applied for home nursing gigs, design work, cartoonists, even a vet assistant. On a second pass, he applied for anything entry-level, but the competition for those was even fiercer these days, and all of the retail and food service jobs would go to students willing to work longer hours for less pay. Once again, Steve's health thwarted him. He could only stand and carry things for so long, and it wasn't long enough. It wasn't long enough to be a nurse, either, but he'd made do.

When that was done, he put on his best shoes and set out into the city with three stacks of resumes - one for nursing, one for design, and one for other non-specialized jobs.

When he got home, the equipment Tony had promised had been delivered, and he spent a few hours setting it up, in complete awe. It was beautiful - multiple screens and loaded with all the software he could ever want. Tony brushed off all attempts at gratitude, but did make sure to point out that _everything_ had been custom engraved with Steve's initials so it was utterly useless to Tony and Steve had better damn take it all with him when he left. He stayed up all night fleshing out his portfolio, slept for two hours, then got up and hit the street again.

For the next three weeks, Steve spent every day papering the city with his resume, travelling farther and farther out each time. He knew that far too often, they were going straight in the garbage, but he had to try. His online applications had earned him two interviews, but neither had come up with a callback.

The only bright part of his day was Tony. Vibrant, over-the-top, caring, funny, handsome Tony. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the way Tony's eyes cut over him sometimes, the way his mouth twitched up at the corner when Steve talked. But it was risky ground to tread - wasn't it? Sleeping with his benefactor - the only person between Steve and a concrete pillow - was the kind of thing that would make Bucky smack him up the back of the head and call him an idiot.

And yet… Tony's eyes were these soft, brown pools with golden edges, bright and intelligent, and filled to the brim with emotion. He wanted to dive into them. He'd drawn them more than once - just the cut across Tony's face that held his eyes. It was pretty clear that if they let this go where it wanted to go, it would be more than just sleeping together for either of them, but in some ways that carried even more risks.

Tony had power over him - not that Steve was worried about him abusing it - but it twisted the balance of things, made it potentially complicated. And Steve didn't want to find himself holding back in a relationship just because he was worried about arguing with the shield that stood between him and the streets.

Besides all of that, he'd only really known Tony for a few weeks. It was insane that the attraction could be that strong that fast, right? They spent almost every evening together, sometimes talking, sometimes watching the game, sometimes cooking or playing chess. It was homey and comfortable, except for the part where it was charged with the static that crackled between them all the time.

Steve arrived back at the tower after another full day of job hunting with aching feet and a pain in his chest. "Hey, JARVIS? Where's Tony?" he asked, when the penthouse was dark and quiet. "Workshop?"

"Mr. Stark is not currently at the tower," JARVIS replied obscurely.

"Okay." Steve went to his rooms and changed then headed back to the penthouse. "Will he be home in time for dinner? I thought I might make something."

JARVIS paused, which was unlike him, then the TV clicked on.

"Oh… no." Steve's feet carried him across the carpet towards the screen where Iron Man was currently in a fight for his life on a special news report. "No… what -? Shit." Steve sunk down on the couch, unable to pull his gaze a way, but not wanting to watch. "Is this live?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, Tony."

A man with long, metal tentacles coming out of his body had a grip around Iron Man's arm and was flinging him back and forth, the repulsors firing wildly as they tried to extract Tony from the unforgiving grasp.

Steve's nails dug painfully into his palms as he watched, helpless. There was nothing he could do, but Tony needed help. "Come on…"

The grasping claws dug into the metal of the armour and it bent in towards Tony's leg, but the change in pressure gave him a chance to slip free.

Steve spent an agonizing twenty minutes watching Tony fight the man, dodging and diving - but eight tentacles was too much for one man and every hit had Steve winding tighter. What if he didn't make it..?

Then Tony feinted left and spun around behind the man, twisting two confused tentacles together before diving abruptly and slamming into the man's back. After a brief struggling, the tentacles collapsed to the ground in a useless heap.

Emergency crews piled in, and the TV footage cut away just as Tony took to the sky. Steve paced back and forth across the living room until JARVIS said, "Mr. Stark is on the landing pad."

Steve leapt to his feet and ran to the stairs. He nearly tumbled down them but caught himself on the glass doors to the workshop. He knocked and waited, hopping from foot to foot while, presumably, JARVIS asked Tony if he could let him in. A moment later, the door clicked open.

Tony was on the couch, half in the armour, half out of it. DUM-E stood nearby with a piece of it clutched in his claw. Tony's eyes were closed but he was still awake, his chest hitching with pain on every breath. Steve fell to his knees beside him. "Tony… shit."

"See, you know it's bad," Tony said, "when they don't even ask 'are you okay'?" One of his eyes cracked open, and Steve laughed wetly.

"You look awful."

"You should see the other guy."

"I did. I watched them take him to jail. He looked fine."

"Hey…" Tony tried to protest then broke off into a cough which made his eyes go wide with pain. "Oh wow, that is deeply unpleasant."

"What hurts the most?" Steve asked, snapping into clinical mode. "DUM-E, get the rest of that armour off. JARVIS, you can do scans and stuff - any vitals in danger?"

"Mr. Stark has a serious of contusions - the most dangerous being on his upper right thigh - a strained ankle tendon, and mild, non-threatening, blunt force trauma to the back of the head."

"Okay. Hold on." He dashed out of the workshop and up to the main floor. He grabbed his little case out of his duffle and filled in the gaps from the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. Back downstairs, he snapped on gloves and set to work pulling Tony's clothes off.

"Wow." Tony lifted his hips to let Steve tug his pants down. "If I knew all it took to get you to want me naked was getting beaten up by a metal octopus man, I would have done it a long time ago."

Steve shot him an unamused look. "Purely professional interest, _Mr._ Stark." Steve twisted Tony's leg to get a better look at the cut on his thigh. It wasn't pretty, would probably scar, but wasn't life threatening. He let out a long, relieved breath.

"I'm not sure what the graphic design interest in my thigh is, but I'm not complaining." He grit his teeth together, gasping out the end of his sentence.

"I'm not a graphic designer. I'm a nurse."

"What? But you said -?"

"I was _trying_ to make some money off of graphic design, which I'm pretty good at, but I'm trained to be a nurse, and that's the job I had for six years before I got laid off and everything went to shit. This needs stitches, but I don't have supplies. You need to go to the ER."

"Nope. Can't do that. If it hits the media that I'm injured, it's like a free-for-all on bad guy activity. It also paints a target on whatever hospital I'm caught in. I'll take 'things that make me wish I'd listened to Coulson about the whole secret identity thing' for five billion, Alex." Tony lifted a hand and waved it towards the other side of the room. "There's a full first aid kit in that cupboard. Has stitchy stuff and everything. I usually just do it myself. Or lie around moaning and hope I don't bleed out."

Steve walked over and pulled open the cupboard. On one side was a rather beautiful collection of medical supplies, complete with multiple sizes of needles and a few bags of saline. On the other, was booze.

"Hey, bring some of that medicine back with you, would ya?" Tony called.

Steve looked over his shoulder at him and glared, getting fluttering eyelashes in response. He dumped out a basket of gauze and filled it with what he'd need, then pulled a bottle of scotch off the shelf. Back at Tony's side, he set the bottle out of his reach and knelt next to the couch.

Tony was still and quiet while Steve wiped him clean with antiseptic, sprayed an analgesic, then opened a needle and thread packet and started to work. The cut was deep, but it wasn't long, and had successfully missed everything important. Steve pulled the skin together and tied off each knot, falling into the rhythm of familiar work. Tony's abs tensed as Steve's hand skated down his thigh, jolting a little under the touch. The room shrunk until it was just the two of them there.

When the last stitch was tied off, Steve gave Tony another once over, checking that the wounds he'd cleaned hadn't reopened. He taped some gauze down in a few places then picked up the bottle. "If you drink this, you can't have any painkillers."

"S'okay - I don't have any here, anyway." Tony made grabby hands, and Steve turned the lid, took a long swig, then handed over the rest.

Steve peeled off his gloves and tossed them on top of the gauze and tape.

"Thank you." Tony was several deep gulps into the bottle.

Steve tipped his head back, and found Tony had pushed himself up onto his side and was looking down at Steve. They were so close. "You're welcome."

Tony breathed out and electricity crackled between them. _Stand up,_ Steve told himself, _bad idea._ But Tony shifted a little closer and all of Steve's rational thought evaporated.

"Was it really just professional interest?" Tony asked softly.

Steve shook his head. "No…" Tony leaned in further, a scant inch between their lips, but it seemed he was leaving the last little bit for Steve to take.

Steve took it. He pushed up with his hand on the floor and pressed their mouths together. Tony's lips were spiced from the scotch, tingling on Steve's tongue. Tony twisted, his nose brushing against Steve's cheek, and Steve's lips parted in a soft gasp. He was so warm, his breath hot and boozy.

But when Steve pushed a little deeper, Tony winced, falling back on the couch, and Steve backed off. He rocked back on his heels then stood, looking down at his patient. "You feeling alright?"

"Top of the world," Tony muttered, his eyes falling shut. His hand waved through the air and Steve caught it, winding their fingers together.

"You should rest." Steve brushed his other hand over Tony's forehead, worried about fever, but his skin was only warm, not hot.

"Thank you."

Steve pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and spread it out over Tony. When he woke up next, Steve would make him go up to bed, but for now, it would be worse to move him.

**

"Hey, how was your day?" Tony called, dropping his briefcase and kicking off his shoes. He sidled up next to Steve in the kitchen and stole a circle of carrot.

Steve smacked his hand with a spoon then dumped the rest of the carrots into the pot. "It was good. I had lunch with Bucky."

"Nice. How's he doing?"

"Pretty good. He tried to get me a job at the bar, but they're fully staffed. He told me to thank you for taking care of me though."

Tony grinned and lifted his arm to reveal a patch of gauze on his wrist. "Think it's the other way round."

Steve had taken to patching Tony up every time he came back from a battle as Iron Man. They hadn't talked about their kiss, but things were even more charged between them, little jolts of electricity crackling on Steve's skin every time Tony got near.

"So what're you making?" Tony was close, leaning against the kitchen counter, and Steve carefully schooled his breathing.

"Spaghetti."

"You're going to teach me to cook someday, right?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "You have a full-time chef and a staff who will deliver to your door twenty-four seven, Tony, you don't need to know how to cook."

"Your food is different. No one's ever cooked for me that I didn't pay, before. I want you to teach me. Earn your keep, Steve," Tony teased, his tongue peeking out from his cheeky smirk as he reached into the pot to grab another carrot.

Steve smacked him again. "They're hot now! For a genius, you're awful dumb sometimes." Tony just kept smiling, and Steve rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Fine! I'll teach you. But I know you won't listen to me."

"Sure I will." Tony shifted a little closer, his eyes flicking down to Steve's mouth for a moment, but he didn't lean in. He caught the sleeve of Steve's flannel between two fingers and rubbed it idly, like he was testing the fabric for softness. "I'll listen to you."

"Okay…" Steve wasn't really sure what he was agreeing to anymore. They stood there, looking at each other, until the vegetables hissed angrily in the pan and Steve broke away to tend to them, Tony's fingers falling off his sleeve.

**

Slowly, Steve was drawn down into Tony's workshop to spend more and more of his time. It started with Tony asking him to be a brick wall for him to bounce ideas off of, and graduated to Tony starting conversations in the living room and then simply standing up and walking down the stairs, still talking, expecting Steve to follow.

At first, Steve thought the workshop was cold. It was ruthlessly tidy, and nothing but glass and concrete, but after spending some time there, Steve found the warmth. The warmth was in Tony; he brought it to life with his fingertips when he touched his hands to the keyboard and woke up a hundred screens. His blueprint wireframes were beautiful too, like DNA strands, twining and spinning. Tony's mind went a thousand miles a second, and watching him think out loud was like being on a spaceship at warp speed. It made Steve's stomach drop out.

Steve started bringing his new tablet down to the workshop while Tony worked, expanding his digital art portfolio by turning the various objects in Tony's magical toy box into logos for made up companies.

"DUM-E, what kind of company do you want to be?" Steve asked the bot, one lazy Sunday afternoon.

"A fire suppression system," Tony offered, from underneath a very expensive looking car with flames painted down the side. "But a shitty one."

"Hey, you joke, but you know I'll do it." Steve started to sketch out an idea, then paused as his email notification chimed. His heart immediately started pounding. These days, the only things he got to his email were spam and job-related things. He opened it. "Oh my god."

"What was that?" Tony called, rolling around on his dolly.

"Oh my _god!"_ Steve jumped up. "Tony! I got an incredible interview!"

Tony appeared, out from under the car and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands. "What for?"

"This amazing startup I saw on a recruitment site. Wandango. They're in an incubator right now, but their products are really cool. I thought there was no chance but - sometimes they can't afford people who have all the right credentials and they spend more time looking at a portfolio. They want to meet me on Wednesday."

"That's awesome!" Tony hooked an arm around Steve's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. "You're going to wow them."

"Well, I dunno. It'll be good interview practice, at least."

"Shut up, you're going to nail it." Tony's arm was still around Steve's shoulders, and Steve resisted the urge to turn and burrow into Tony's warm chest. For a second, he thought Tony had brushed a kiss through his hair, but then Tony turned, and it must have just been his chin.

Steve dressed in his best slacks and a dark blue button-up on Wednesday and took the subway across town to the incubator where Wandango had their offices. The building was massive, but a cheerful young woman with an asymmetrical haircut who introduced herself as Joanie, one of the founders, led Steve through a maze of hallways to a back room where the startup had their space. He sat in an office with her and her partner, Alfie, and tried to look like he knew what he was doing.

To his astonishment, they seemed genuinely impressed with his portfolio, and their questions weren't as hard to answer as Steve expected.

He felt giddy on the ride home and that energy took him right up into the penthouse where he bounced around Tony in excitement, unable to sit still.

"Okay!" Tony clapped his hands together after Steve's sixth lap around the apartment. "Let's celebrate! Have you ever been on a helicopter?"

Steve burst out laughing. "Me? No, of course not."

"Come on! Let's go!"

"Go? What? Tony are you -? We're not going on a helicopter right now…"

"Sure we are. What's the point in me having a helicopter if we can't fly it around whenever we want?" Tony pulled Steve towards the door then stopped. "Wait. Have you ever been on an airplane?"

Steve shook his head slowly, feeling giddiness start to vibrate under his skin.

"Oh, shit. Well then we are definitely doing that."

Steve laughed as Tony pulled on him again, taking him towards the door. "We can't just _leave."_

"Sure we can. Come on, Steve - let me show you what a billionaire can do," Tony said, eyes flashing with teasing delight, and after a moment, Steve gave in, nodding.

"Okay, fine. Don't I need to get changed?"

"Don't worry about it."

It turned out that the reason Steve didn't need to worry about it was because when they arrived at the airport, the plane had already been stocked with clothes for both of them. Even more to Steve's surprise, the clothes Tony handed him were shorts and a dark blue linen shirt with palm fronds on it. "Where we going?"

But Tony just smiled and nodded towards the window. Steve slipped into a seat and pressed his face to the window, watching as the runway disappeared. His stomach dropped as the wheels left the ground and they rose up into the air. "Whoa."

Tony laughed and bumped his foot against Steve's then smiled and winked when he looked up and their eyes met.

The flight wasn't very long, made shorter by the fact that they got sucked into a card game once they were in the air, and Steve only paused now and then to watch the tiny lego-world drift by beneath them. They broke out over an endless blue-glass ocean and then started to dip as a tiny island came into view.

"Where are we?"

"Small island in the Caribbean," Tony said casually. "I can't tell you which one or you'll start looking things up instead of paying attention to me."

Steve barked out a laugh.

"You haven't had fish til you've had fish like this."

He wasn't wrong.

A car picked them up at the tiny island airport, driven by a beautiful woman with a broad smile and tight hugs. She flirted shamelessly with Tony, laughing and pinching his arm. She kissed Steve on his cheek when she dropped them off and his cheeks heated.

Tony shot him a look then slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. "Hey, paws off, Nikki. This one's mine."

Steve's stomach flopped at the idea of being Tony's.

Inside the restaurant, everyone seemed to know Tony, too. He greeted the bartender like an old friend and he and Steve were seated at a table on a patio facing out on a beach. The waves crashed on the sand and Steve could smell the salt in the air. "This is incredible."

"Oh yeah? Wait til you try this -" Tony leaned across the table, and Steve realized he was holding a piece of fish between his fingers. Steve opened his mouth and Tony dropped it on his tongue. It was buttery and rich, the outside charred crisp and the inside soft and sweet.

"Wow. That's - wow."

More plates appeared, along with glass after glass of bright-coloured drinks filled with chunks of fruit. It wasn't long before Steve's stomach was full and his head was buzzing.

Tony paid with what looked like an extravagant tip then threw his arm around Steve's shoulders and led him out of the restaurant, both stumbling a little, both laughing. Steve tried to turn towards where the car had dropped them off, but Tony tugged him back the other way. "This way, Steve!" He nearly tripped, and Steve caught him then almost fell himself.

"Oh my god, Tony, you're so drunk. You don't even know where you're going."

"Of course I do!" Tony gestured wildly with one hand. "Thing. Green stuff."

"What?" Steve's tongue felt inordinately heavy.

"Monkeys! Green Monkey."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Steve slurred.

"Come on." Tony led the way down the road, and after a few minutes of walking - comfortable tucked up under Tony's arm - they came to a long driveway. Tony led the way up the drive to a gate which he opened with a code on a pad next to it. At the top of the drive was a beautiful house, small, but wonderfully done, with an infinity pool and a long, endless balcony that disappeared among the trees.

"Wow."

A sign over the door said "Green Monkey House" and Tony knew the code for this door too.

"Is this place yours?"

"Yup. Billionaire, remember? I'm supposed to be showing off." Tony turned to grin at him and suddenly they were face to face, gripping each other's shirts to stay upright. "Remember..?" Tony trailed off, eyes dancing over Steve's face.

"I remember." But Steve couldn't remember how to breathe. It was dark in the house, quiet, and empty but still fresh-smelling. Steve clung to Tony's chest, and Tony's arms slid down and wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. "Tony…?"

"Yeah?"

"How -" Steve sucked in a sharp breath, steadying himself against Tony's chest. "How many people did you give that Iron Man card to?"

Tony bent until their noses were almost touching. His lips parted, and Steve nuzzled up, brushing their lips lightly together once, then again. He licked his own lips and could still taste the salty bite of the fish and the tingle of the alcohol. When he kissed Tony again, more firmly this time, he got hints of sweet fruit and chocolate.

"Just one…" Tony breathed, and the hold between them broke. He dove in, pulling Steve tightly against him and prying his lips apart with an eager tongue.

Steve sucked in half a breath through his teeth then grabbed both sides of Tony's face and clung to him. Everything was tongues and teeth and exploring hands as Tony stumbled backwards and drew Steve with him.

"Steve…" Tony tripped into the edge of a bed and took Steve down with him, letting him climb up on on lap to straddle his hips. Big, hot hands skated up Steve's thighs and he moaned into Tony's mouth, grinding down.

It was sweaty in the Caribbean heat, and Tony was a long stretch of smooth skin and rumpled clothes. Steve's head spun with food and alcohol and endorphins until he wondered if maybe it was all a dream.

But then Tony was slowing, and Steve wouldn't dream that, his nipping kisses calming into soft explorations and his hands soothing Steve's until they were still, fingers wound together. Eventually, Tony stilled, pressing one more soft kiss to Steve's lips then falling backwards on the bed. "We're really drunk," he muttered.

Steve sighed and slumped down on his chest. Everything was spinning, and he felt like laughing and crying at the same time. "Yup."

"C'mere." Tony tugged and Steve slumped down at his side, curled up against Tony's chest. "I like that I brought you here. Want you to see - see - this. And I like that…" Tony smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He was slurring heavily now. "I like that thing you do." He waved his hand through the air vaguely.

Steve nodded. It was true. "Yeah. S'good."

"Mhm. Good."

"Good… goodnight." Steve patted Tony on the stomach. Sleep was good too.

"Night," Tony breathed. He pulled Steve closer, turning to burrow his face into his hair. "Night."

Steve was out almost instantly.

**

Steve woke with a pounding headache and the immense confusion that apparently could only come from getting wasted in an entirely new country and waking up, sideways, on a bed you didn't remember falling asleep on.

Tony's voice murmured from the next room over, and Steve followed it to find him slumped over the kitchen counter, coffee in one hand and a phone pressed to his ear with the other, grumbling lowly to whoever was on the other line.

Steve hung nearby with his own mug of coffee until Tony hung up. He offered him a weak smile.

"Do you also feel like there's a woodpecker inside your skull?" Tony asked.

Steve nodded. "Mhm."

Tony waved his phone around. "Work is… being work. Ugh. I wanted to stay for a bit, show you my favourite parts of the island - but we'd better head home. Sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't even pack anything. Maybe… uh maybe we can come back some day."

Tony shot Steve a look he couldn't quite decipher then nodded. "Sure. Anytime."

A car picked them up at the house only a few minutes later and took them to the tiny airport. Tony worked on the plane while Steve looked out the window and picked at the beautiful breakfast an attendant had placed in front of him as soon as they took off. He wasn't sure how to feel about last night. It some ways it was the inevitable culmination of the last two months of flirting and playing and sneaking kisses. But it also… hadn't felt quite right.

Things couldn't be normal between them until Steve had a job and a home and a life. He couldn't be Tony's boyfriend, not for real, until he had his shit figured out. And though they kept flirting with something more casual, more physical, instead, it wasn't what Steve wanted. And he got the impression it wasn't all Tony wanted, either. If it were, last night probably would've gone farther.

Tony went straight to work from the plane, offering Steve a quick one-armed hug in the elevator back at the tower before disappearing through the doors into the SI floors. Steve went upstairs and wandered around, at a loss. He kept checking his phone, hoping for a call from Wandango or a message from Tony, but nether came.

But when Tony came up, they still didn't talk about it at all. Steve cooked - they laughed, they watched TV, they went to bed. Every time it seemed like things were charging up again, they would defuse a moment later, and Steve stopped feeling the anticipation of change each time. It was for the best, really. Steve relied on Tony for a place to stay, and though it was undeniable that there was an attraction between them, it was best ignored.

It didn't stop him from having fantasies of Tony suddenly bursting through his door, gathering him up in his arms and taking him against the wall like a Harlequin novel heroine, though, but those were easily contained to the shower and the dark of his room at night before he fell asleep.

A week went by, and with no response from Wandango, Steve gave up on every hearing from them. And with no move from Tony, he gave up on their flirtation ever turning into anything more either.

**

_Dear Mr. Rogers,_

_  
_ _We are delighted to invite you to an interview for the position of junior, in-house, graphic design associate at 2:45pm on Friday, the 21st. Please confirm that you are available at this time._

_Kind regards,_   
_Sally Wright_   
_Executive Assistant_ _  
_Hammer Industries

Steve stared at the email. He didn't even remember applying for a job at HI, but he'd been applying for almost everything lately, so he believed it could have happened. He also had his resume posted everywhere, so maybe he'd been headhunted.

Tony hated Justin Hammer, hated everything he stood for, but ignoring a job opportunity because of what Tony would want was exactly why this whole thing had been such a mistake. Everything was about Tony, Tony, Tony, and Steve needed to focus on himself.

He wrote back saying he'd be there and guilt dropped out his stomach as soon as he hit send. But it wouldn't hurt to go, surely? To at least see what they had to offer. Even if they offered him the job - which they almost certainly wouldn't - Steve could still say no. He could talk to Tony first, tell him then. If nothing else, it was good interview practice - for his dream job, at the wrong company.

The three days until his interview were torture. It was hard to focus on applying for anything else, and Tony was so deep in his work that he wasn't much of a distraction either. The cool air between them only added to Steve's anxiety. Tony wasn't rude or unkind or even terse, but the warmth between them had chilled a little after the island, and the ease with which they floated through each other's space suffered.

Steve got dressed and slipped out of the tower while Tony was on a phone call on Friday afternoon. He took the subway the few blocks to Hammer HQ, even though he would have preferred to walk; he didn't want to sweat through his nice button-down.

The receptionist took him to an empty conference room, and a moment later a stiff looking young woman in a navy suit walked briskly into the room and shook his hand. "Mr. Rogers? I'm Marion Hannah. Welcome to Hammer Industries."

"Thank you, ma'am. It's an honour to be here."

She looked through his portfolio and asked a series of questions. Steve tried to tamp down his nerves and focus on answering calmly and clearly, but by the time it was over, he wasn't sure if he'd managed that. Mrs. Hannah betrayed nothing, her face a mask of quiet indifference. Steve stood when she stood, they shook hands, and she directed him to the elevators.

Steve clutched his portfolio case and reminded himself to breathe. Two floors down, the elevator dinged and stopped, and Steve pasted a passive smile on, but when he saw who stepped through the doors, it fell off and shattered on the floor.

"Mr. Hammer," was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Justin Hammer swanned into the elevator and gave him a careful look. He leaned back against the wall on the opposite side, eyes still fixed on Steve. "Steve Rogers, right?"

Steve startled, at a loss. "Uh… yes sir?"

"You're good friends with Tony Stark."

Steve swallowed. "I know him a bit, yeah."

Hammer smiled. "Tony and I go way back."

"Oh… I know. He, uh, talks about you."

Hammer brightened visibly. "Of course he does," he murmured, almost more to himself than to Steve. "How did the interview go?"

A chill ran down Steve's spine. This no longer felt like a chance meeting. "It was fine. I appreciate the opportunity."

"Yeah, of course, of course. You know, Steve - I can call you Steve, right? - I have another opportunity for you."

Steve remained quiet, waiting.

"There's a pile, you know, of candidates, and different things bring people to the top." The elevator stopped, but the doors didn't open. Steve stayed still, waiting. "Something like sharing useful information can help lift your name up on that stack."

"...Sir?"

Hammer turned to face Steve completely. "You and I aren't the kind to mess with doubletalk, are we, Steve? I'll just say it plain. You know Tony well. You've been seen with him a number of times, now. You've got access to Stark's workshop. There's a whole world of technology in there he's hoarding for himself. It's not fair. Repulsor tech should be powering the world. One pad from the palm of the Iron Man suit - an old one, one he's not using anymore - and I can reverse engineer it. It's his trash, Steve, all I need is for you to relieve him of it and bring it to me. Then, suddenly, the shortlist for that job is a list of one. Capiche?"

It was sweltering in the elevator. "I understand."

"I knew you would." Hammer clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Cause you're a smart guy. You know what's best."

"Right." Steve couldn't swallow around the knot in his throat. He didn't know what to say, trapped in the elevator with the other man. Then, finally, the doors slid open and Hammer stepped out, shooting Steve a wink.

Steve bolted as soon as the way was clear, powering through the front doors and out onto the street. Hammer was offering him a job - a well paid, stable job, with benefits - in exchange for stealing from Tony. It was sickening. And he hated how badly he wanted that job, that stability, to finally be able to support himself well enough that he could deserve someone like Tony.

But he wouldn't, if that was how he got it.

Steve opened the banking app on his phone and sighed down at the negative balance. He took the long way home, not caring now if he sweated up his nice shirt, and when he got home, Tony wasn't there. Steve let himself into the lab and walked around the space that was full of Tony. He sat down on the couch where they'd kissed for the first time. He could see what Hammer wanted sitting in a bin by the end of the worktable. Tony designed and rejected a lot of palm pads with repulsor technology - he really wouldn't miss one. But Steve could never look him in the eye if he took advantage of his kindness like that.

And yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to email Hammer and tell him to get fucked, either. He wished he'd never called Tony, never gotten caught up in all of this, never fallen in love with a man he couldn't - shouldn't - have. He would have been better off dead on the street than a burden.

Steve spent the next few days in bed, claiming a cold. Tony tried to bring him soup, tried to draw him into bad movie watching, but when Steve grumbled and ignored the food and rolled away to press his face into the pillow, Tony seemed to get the message and backed off.

By the weekend, Steve was drawn back out into the penthouse by his growling stomach, and to his relief, Tony didn't try and urge him into conversation.

On Sunday, Steve's phone chimed with a new email, and the blood drained out of his face when he saw who it was from, anxiety hot in his stomach. Tony was typing on his laptop just a few feet away, but Steve risked opening it to read it.

_We're making a decision by Tuesday. Don't let me down. Just one repulsor pad and the position is all yours._

_-JH_

**

Steve was out on one of his resume rounds when his phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hi! Steve Rogers? This is Joanie from Wandango."

"Oh! Hi, Joanie. How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"I'm fine."

"I know it's been a while since we met, but I was wondering if you were still interested in the position? I understand if you've accepted something else."

"No, no!" Steve ducked down into an alley to block out the honking and yelling of the street. "I'm still very interested."

"Awesome! I was hoping you could come in for another meeting on, uh, Wednesday? We'd really like to meet with you again and talk over a few details."

"Absolutely."

"Three o'clock?"

"Works for me."

"Okay great!" She laughed. "See you on Wednesday."

"Thank you so much. See you Wednesday."

Steve hung up the phone and stared at it. He had another interview! And he'd _loved_ Wandango. It'd be amazing to work there - his dream job. He stumbled down the street and onto the subway, rushing home to celebrate with Tony.

This wasn't just good for him, it was good for _them._ Once he was free of Tony's obligation, it would be so much simpler to pursue this thing between them, this heat, this electricity. As much as it was a good thing that things had cooled between them lately, Steve missed the little smiles and glances Tony would shoot him. He shouldn't, but he wanted a chance at it.

He burst out of the elevators and ran towards the workshop stairs, but Tony was on the living room couch, a ripped apart clock spread out in pieces on the coffee table in front of him. He was twisting a small gear with a pair of pliers.

"Tony! You'll never believe what just -" Steve froze. The TV was playing a news segment, and behind the podium on a stage, giving a press conference, was Justin Hammer. On his hand, was a gauntlet, scarily similar to Tony's, and his palm was facing out, towards the crowd and the camera, a glowing blue circle in the centre of it. He'd gotten the repulsor pad somehow. "Tony…"

Now, Steve could see the tension in Tony's shoulders, the way his knuckles were white around the handles of the pliers. "Fun seeing your buddy on TV?" Tony snapped, and Steve recoiled.

"He's not - I didn't -"

"Oh, no? So it was a different Justin Hammer you had a job interview with last week?"

"It - I - it wasn't with him. It was for his company…"

"Ah, I see, and the personalized follow up, mentioning me specifically is SOP for Hammer Industries when they hire a new graphic designer, I suppose."

"You read my email?"

Tony huffed. "As soon as Hammer made his announcement, JARVIS did a full scan of absolutely everything in the tower to find any traces of him, to figure out the security breach. _J_ read your email, and he sent the relevant ones to me." He tossed the pliers aside and stood, running a hand back through his hair. "So what was your arrangement, huh? Handing off stuff like this?" He gestured towards the TV. "He'd give you a job and you'd just… feed it to him?"

"I - that's what he offered, but -"

Tony stopped pacing and turned to face Steve. He had dark shadows under red-rimmed eyes. "I told you about Hammer," he said, too quietly. "Is this not good enough for you? I thought you felt safe here, Steve. I tried everything in my power to make you feel safe here, and you still wanted to leave so badly you'd go to someone like him?"

Steve's chest ached and burned. How could Tony think he'd do something like that? "Tony! It wasn't me. I didn't give him that. I don't know how he got it, but it wasn't me."

Tony tilted his head, expression shuttered closed until it was cold and blank. "But you still went, you talked to him, you thought about it. If you'd ignored him, told him to fuck off, he wouldn't have kept emailing you. You went to the interview."

Steve shuffled on the carpet. His eyes were hot and his stomach was trying to crawl up out of his throat. "I need every interview I can get…"

"No, Steve, that's what you don't seem to fucking understand. You really don't. But I guess there's nothing I can do to make you trust me. I give up."

Steve braced himself for the _pack your bags,_ for the _get the fuck out of here._ He was holding back tears. But Tony just grabbed his phone off the table and pushed past Steve, out of the room and down the stairs that led to the workshop.

"JARVIS…"

"I highly doubt Mr. Stark will be reappearing tonight," JARVIS said, ice dripping from every word. "It may be in your best interests to keep to your rooms."

Steve swallowed heavily. "Okay." He ran up the stairs and down the hall to his door. Once through, he locked the door and went through to his bedroom. Everything was falling apart.

**

Steve had no choice but to pull himself together and spruce up again for his second interview with Wandango two days later. Tony hadn't shown his face, staying in the workshop, even when Steve tried to entice him out with cooking smells. JARVIS was cool and professional when Steve tried to engage him, and the pain in Steve's chest didn't lesson once. Even if Tony would talk to him, he didn't know what he'd say.

He stopped outside the workshop doors before leaving, but he couldn't bring himself to go in, if the door would even unlock for him.

"If he asks, please tell Tony I'm at a job interview," Steve said softly, before turning to go.

"Yes, sir," JARVIS replied.

Steve flipped through his portfolio on the way to Wandango's offices, trying to get his head in the right space to sell himself. Joanie met him at the door again. "Steve! Thanks for coming back." She led him past the other teams in the incubator to their space at the end of the hall. "You remember Alfie."

They shook hands then claimed a meeting room.

"We really wanted to talk to you again because we so enjoyed our conversation last time. Sorry it took so long to get back to you - things have been a bit hectic here."

"That's alright. I appreciate the opportunity."

"That's startup life, I'm afraid," Alfie said with a chuckle. "Timelines are never what you expect - and we're all expected to wear a lot of hats. Ostensibly, the position is graphics, but you might get pulled in a few directions."

"That's fine. I certainly don't mind chaos. As a nurse, I was always getting tugged in four or five directions at once."

"Oh, yeah!" Joanie laughed. "Of course, you know all about it. Plus when Mike cuts himself open on the paper cutter again, we could certainly use you."

"I'll help wherever I can!" As the interview went on, Steve found himself more and more drawn in. Last time, he hadn't let himself get his hopes up too high, but a second interview meant they liked him - right? After they talked, they gave him another tour, then brought him back to the meeting room. Steve expected another two weeks' wait, but Joanie and Alfie shared a look then she leaned over the table.

"Look, to be honest, Steve, this interview was just a last precaution. Everyone loved you and your portfolio is amazing. You have a different eye that really suits our sense of style. We're hoping you'll accept the position. I've written up a contract offer for you. You can take some time to look it over and give us a call by... next week?"

"Uh, wow." Steve took the packet of papers and stared at them. "Seriously?"

Joanie beamed. "Yes! We want you. If you want us."

"Oh yes! I'd love to work here. It seems like an amazing work environment. And I love what you guys are doing. I'd be honoured - I'm - honestly a little stunned."

"Well, don't agree to anything now," Alfie said. "Read this over first."

"Thank you." Steve clutched the contract.

Joanie flipped through his portfolio again, casually. "I love this one."

It was a piece he'd done in the workshop, while Tony had slept off a particularly bad whack to the head. Half Tony, half Iron Man, it was sharp and angular, cut harshly down the middle between the two. Steve swallowed down the building knot at seeing Tony's face. "Thank you." A curl of dread down his spine reminded him of his elevator conversation with Hammer _. Please, god, don't let this be the same,_ he begged silently.

"I'm a big Iron Man fan." She grinned. "I have all the merch at home. I just think Iron Man is incredible, and then Tony Stark is my business idol. Your Iron Man pieces are what caught my eye at first, I must admit!"

"Oh - uh. That's neat."

"I mean, it's okay if you're not a fan! I realize the armour must be cool to draw. I didn't mean to fangirl all over you."

"No - no. It's fine." Steve hesitated. "I've actually met him. A few times."

Her mouth fell open with such honest astonishment that Steve relaxed. She had no idea he was living at Stark Tower. "That's amazing," she breathed. "What's he like?"

Steve opened his mouth then closed it again. He bit his lip, tamping down the sudden wave of emotion. Would Tony even care to hear that Steve had a job, or would he never want to talk to him again? "He's incredible. Really kind, generous - one of the best people I've ever met."

"Wow."

**

Steve's first instinct, when the interview was over, was to go right home and tell Tony. But Tony wouldn't want to hear it. Steve didn't even know if he'd be allowed back in the tower at this rate. Maybe Tony changed his access while he was out.

Even as the thought passed through his mind, Steve knew it was uncharitable and hunched over at the clench of guilt in his gut. Tony had never threatened Steve's home, never suggested that anything he could do would get him kicked out. Tony might have locked the workshop, but he'd never lock Steve out of his apartment, and that hurt almost worse than if they could just fight and be done.

Not wanting to go back to the tower and face the blank, unyielding glass doors of the workshop, Steve wandered down the street until he found a small park with a fountain and settled on a bench. He texted Bucky and Sam, but didn't reply to their enthusiasm for long before melancholy took over.

He had a job - it was what he'd been fighting for all this time. He'd be able to take care of himself, get an apartment, buy his own food - live his life.

_What about the life you already have?_ whispered a cool, cruel voice on his shoulder. What about it? He'd already ruined it, even if it turned out it was something he might have gotten to keep. Steve didn't get to keep things. He'd broken that like he'd broken everything else, and Tony would leave, just like everyone else. Steve had to look out for number one.

His chest tightened, and Steve dug around in his bag until he came up with his inhaler and he took a deep hit, feeling his lungs open almost immediately. He replaced it and pulled out a sketchpad instead, letting his bag slump by his feet while he popped open his case, chose a sharp, hard pencil and started to sketch.

He began with the outline of the fountain, but it wasn't long before that bored him and he flipped the page.

Two eyes took shape, the curve of a lip, the jut of a cheekbone. Steve drew Iron Man so often, but he rarely drew the man inside. What if someone looked at it and could see, see the longing and confusion and the desperation in every pencil stroke? What if it gave him away? Then what?

_Then maybe you could have what you want?_ the unkind voice offered, and Steve huffed and ignored it. He set back to work, defiantly scratching out the curl of Tony's hair and the stubble along his jaw. He could draw him. He could. And it didn't have to mean -

The air screeched with the sound of metal on metal, and Steve looked up just as large, humanoid robot smashed into the edge of the fountain, cracking the concrete and spilling water everywhere. It looked like one of Tony's designs… but not. There were repulsors on its palms, surrounded by ten, spindly but strong-looking fingers, and the way it moved suggested there more on its feet.

"H-H-Hammer?" Steve stuttered out, slipping backwards off the bench and starting to peddle himself towards the comforting cover of trees.

"Ha!" The robot barked out through a crackly speaker, and another one landed beside it, shaking the ground. "You're smarter than you look. Surprised you can fit a brain in that tiny little package."

"What are you doing?"

"Oh Steven, don't you know it's rude to deny a kind offer like the one I made you? I'm here to teach you a lesson in manners. Oh, and by the way, I appreciate that tracer you took with you after the interview. Living at the tower, huh? Guess you're Stark property too. And since I had to take the repsulors the hard way…" The two robots smashed closer, and Steve slipped on the bricks, blood welling up on his palm.

"What do you want with me?" Steve kept backing up but a crash behind him let him know it was useless. Another bot.

"Don't you get it? I want what Tony wants. Tony gives you attention? Well, maybe he'll give a little to me and my inventions, if you're hanging off of my arm instead of _his!"_ Hammer growled and the robots advanced, trapping Steve in between them.

Steve's fingers tightened around the strap of his messenger bag and when one of the robots reached for him, he swung as hard as he could. The heavy portfolio case inside caught the robot on its arm and it wobbled for a moment, trying to right itself. Steve darted under its arm and made a break for the other side of the park, his breath burning through his cramping lungs as he ran as fast as he could.

Something closed around his ankle, and he yelped as it tugged back, bringing him to the ground. "Fuck off!" he yelled swinging his fists wildly and catching hard metal, sending jolts of pain up his arm but doing nothing to fend off his attacker. He opened his mouth to yell again when a streak of red and gold collided with the HammerBot and sent it spinning off across the lawn.

Iron Man rose up from the tumble, grabbed the boot of one of the bots, and swung it through the air, letting go at the right moment to toss it into another, smashing them together with a clang. He took off again then landed next to Steve, dropping to one knee. "Looks like you need saving yet again," he said lightly, and Steve almost cried with the relief of hearing Tony's voice.

"Well I wouldn't want my record to be in jeopardy," he managed to gasp out. Iron Man reached out a hand and placed it gently on Steve's knee, then he turned back to the robots, all of which were back on their feet and advancing.

"Really, Hammer?" Tony drawled. "Monkey see, monkey do? Why don't you just invent something of your own instead of copying me?"

"Because no one _listens!"_ The three robots charged again, this time at Iron Man, and he ducked and twisted fighting off all three at once.

Steve looked around desperately for some way to help, but his bag was way back on the other side of the park, and he had nothing else with him. He wanted to call Tony's name, wanted him to lift the faceplate and smile at Steve, but he couldn't distract him not now.

To Steve's horror, one of the robots got its claws around Tony's arm and lifted him straight up off the ground, his weapons firing wildly as he tried to get under control again. One of the shots caught a robot on its side and it stumbled, a piece of metal flying off and embedding itself several inches in a tree.

Tony got his feet under him again and powered up, flipping through the air and shooting exploding charges at the robots. He seemed to be getting the upper hand, knocking one robot to its knees then blasting straight through its centre, sending a firework of sparks up into the air, then forcing the another to twist around so far that something popped with a horrible snapping noise.

But as the two robots fell to the ground in pieces, the third spun back and caught Tony across the chest with its extended arm, sending him flying backwards into the fountain. It exploded in a shower of concrete dust, and Steve launched himself forward when Tony didn't immediately get up again.

"Tony!" Steve flew across the patio, tripping over robot parts. The third robot advanced on Tony's limp body, and Steve could see what would happen, see that fist about to slam down to crush him. His foot collided with the downed robot's arm, and Steve looked down to steady himself and saw the repulsor pad on its palm was still glowing. He knew what those repulsors could do.

Steve hauled the broken piece up into his arms. The robot had paused, arm raised, Hammer's voice hissing out as he berated Tony for his defeat.

Steve had seen the wires on the inside of the repulsors, listened to Tony's endless rambles about how the repulsors worked. He knew what to do. He found the switch inside, the connection to the arm broken, but his small hands could fit in between the struts to the mechanism inside. He braced himself against the ground, lining up the repulsor pad with the remaining robot.

He fired.

A powerful blast shot across the patio and slammed into the robot, ripping through its central control housing and knocking it to its knees. The same blast recoiled back through the broken piece Steve held, the shock absorbers destroyed, and ripped up his arm into his shoulder, sending a jolt of tooth-cracking pain through him. He cried out, dropping the piece, and stumbled backwards until he fell on his ass, sucking air through his teeth as he cradled his aching arm. Something didn't feel right; his fingers didn't want to move.

There was another smaller explosion, and then Steve heard Tony call his name. The familiar roar of Iron Man cut through the air, and then Tony knelt at Steve's side. The faceplate snapped up. His face was twisted with concern and there was a bruise over his eye, topped with a cut that was bleeding. "Guess it was your turn to save Iron Man, huh?" Tony breathed, his hands fluttering over Steve's body.

Steve laughed weakly. "Set a new record?"

"Definitely." Tony's voice caught.

Steve's hand twitched towards him, unable to resist smoothing a finger over his brow, but when he tried to move, pain radiated up from his wrist, and he cried out, curling around the arm.

"Shit. Don't move, okay? I'm going to pick you up. This might hurt a bit -" Tony scooped under him and lifted him into his metal-covered arms.

Steve bit his lip to keep from crying out again. Police and other bystanders were closing in, but Tony clutched Steve close to his chest, one hand coming up to curl Steve's face into the armour. Steve squeezed his eyes closed and the repulsors fired up. They shot into the air.

Tony must have been going slowly because the rush of wind wasn't too cold on Steve's exposed skin, but only a minute or two later, they landed at Mercy General. By the time they made it through triage and Tony had them in a room, the armour at the door in sentry mode, Steve's arm was aching, shooting pains jolting up his arm to his neck every time he moved. Steve curled up on the paper-covered medical bench and focused on breathing. Tony didn't say anything.

The doctor came in and hustled Steve off for x-rays. It was was broken, but not too badly. No surgery, and no overnight stay. Even with Tony's obvious influence, it still took almost an hour before Steve was in a cast and waiting for the doctor to return with care instructions.

He shifted in his seat and noticed that next to Tony - who had been typing furiously on his phone for the last twenty minutes - was a clipboard with Steve's information on it. He must have filled it out while Steve's cast was being put on.

The address line was filled in as 200 Park Avenue, and Steve's heart skipped a few beats. He supposed Tony wasn't going to kick him out after all.

Tony had also checked off "Bill to home address - I will contact my insurance company myself," at the bottom of the form.

"I don't have any health insurance, Tony." Steve said flatly.

"I don't care. I'll pay for it out of pocket."

"Tony..." Steve started softly, but Tony interrupted him.

"What were you doing over there, anyway?"

"Huh? Oh. I had a second interview with Wandango. They… they offered me the job, actually."

Tony stilled. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's salaried and everything."

Tony's expression was unreadable. "Congratula-"

"Here we go, Mr. Rogers." The doctor walked back in, and Tony snapped his mouth shut, dropping back into the chair in the corner. The doctor walked Steve through his medications and cast management, filling a plastic bag with everything he'd need, then handed over a stack of prescriptions and left them.

Tony had already called Happy. He left Steve in the back of an idling town car while he filled the prescriptions then climbed in beside him. He dropped a stack of paper bags in Steve's lap and Steve pulled the staples open with a snap and peered inside. Antibiotics and painkillers. There was also an over the counter bottle of calcium supplements and a bag of M&Ms. Steve pulled them out and turned to smile at Tony, but he was typing furiously on his phone, and Steve sunk back into his seat. His arm throbbed, but not as badly as his heart.

At the tower, Tony thanked Happy then opened Steve's door for him and hustled him upstairs. He directed him to a seat by the dining room table, dumped everything on the table next to him then disappeared into the kitchen.

"Tony?"

"No - I'm -" Tony reappeared. "Don't you need to, like - eat or something?" He waved a spatula in Steve's general direction.

"No? I could use a glass of water, though…"

"There! Okay, good. Right." Tony disappeared again. The tap turned on, and then he arrived at Steve's side and slammed the water glass on the table too hard.

Steve cleared his throat. "Tony, I'm sorr-"

"Nope! You don't - don't you - I don't think. Okay. No. I think it's a bad idea for you to apologize, because I am definitely the asshole here."

"No… It's my fault. I shouldn't have gone to Hammer. You told me how you felt about him, and I still took the interview. And I should have known it was shady too. But I didn't tell him _anything_ \- I need you to know that. He tried, and… maybe I thought about it just for a moment. But I didn't - I wouldn't. I was just upset. Upset that we..." Steve trailed off.

"I knew it wasn't you, Steve, and it wasn't fair for me to get upset about you taking the interview. Just because I hate the guy doesn't mean you can't work for him - I mean maybe now it'd be a bit sketchy cause he tried to kill you and all, but in general, me hating someone should have no bearing on what you do. I just - I tried so hard, over the last few months - to make it clear that this is your home, free and clear, no obligations, not just because of the way I feel about you - and that could get hinky real fast - but because you deserve a fucking break, Steve, not everything has to be so hard, sometimes people just want to help, and I can't even tell you how much it's meant to me to have you here - the difference in my life, the -"

"Hey, Tony?" Steve asked, interrupting his ramble with a smile. His chest swelled with affectionate feeling. Maybe there was a chance everything could be okay, after all.

"What?"

Steve peered at him up through his eyelashes. "Sign my cast?"

Tony's smile was slow to grow, but it was honest and heartfelt. He ducked his chin then nodded. "Sure." He grabbed the bin of markers Steve had left by the edge of the couch and leaned over the table, pulling Steve's cast towards him gently. He signed, _You know who I am,_ along Steve's arm, earning a snort, then pulled out a blue marker and started sketching out the shape of a repulsor pad on Steve's palm. "So you got a job, huh?"

"Yeah! Thank god this was my left arm or I'd have to delay starting."

"You know I'm going to have to vet this place down to its underwear, right?"

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, I know. That'd be nice - peace of mind. Thank you. I was actually going to ask if you had anyone who could review the contract. Make sure it's a fair deal."

"Of course. Leave it on my desk." Tony was quiet for a moment as he continued drawing the lines of the iron man armour over Steve's cast, the marker sliding around Steve's thumb. "And…" he finally offered, "I guess you'll find a new place too."

Steve's throat tightened. "Maybe."

Tony's marker stilled then jumped to another blank patch on Steve's wrist. "Yeah?"

"Yeah…" Steve smiled. "Depends how much rent is going up here."

The corners of Tony's mouth twitched up. "Ah, well. Probably a lot."

"Big increase, seems fair."

"Yeah… like three or four hundred percent. At least. This is a business, Mr. Rogers, not a charity."

"Four hundred percent…" Steve could barely hold back a laugh. "On zero dollars?"

"Yup. Steep, I know, but times are hard for a billionaire in the city."

"I bet."

Tony finished a line of red around the repulsor pad and set his marker down. He reached out and took one finger from Steve's unhurt hand between his and petted lightly down its length. "I don't - That's not why you should stay, though. Just because it's easy and free."

"Okay." The temperature in the room was rising rapidly. "Why should I stay?" Steve's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Because… because you'll get lonely living on your own… because DUM-E likes you best… because you still haven't taught me how to cook. Because I don't think I can do this on my own anymore." Tony swallowed visibly, his eyes fixed on where he still played with Steve's fingers. "Because I'm in love with you."

The room hushed like a blanket of snow had fallen over both of them, a deep breath in stilling them both. Steve had always thought he had nothing to offer Tony back, that everything Tony gave him was stacking on this looming tower of all the things he could never pay back. But the way Tony was looking at him now, needing, wanting, almost desperate, waiting for his response made him realize that he could give something back to Tony that really was valuable. Tony had saved him, but maybe he wasn't the only one who needed saving.

Steve twisted his hand up and caught Tony's, winding their fingers together. It was so easy, so much easier than he thought, to say, "I'll stay."

Tony breathed out hard, eyes snapping up to finally meet Steve's. "Really?"

"Really." Steve's grin couldn't be contained now. "Someone has to patch you up when you get hit by a train -"

"That was one time!"

"- and dry you off when you fling yourself into the bay -"

"Okay, maybe."

"- and then kiss it better."

"Oh." Tony leaned in as Steve did, until their noses touched. Steve closed his eyes and pressed forward, rubbing his nose down the length of Tony's then bringing their foreheads lightly together. Tony twisted, until their lips touched, and Steve could feel the shiver that ran through him. He was warm and soft and as they kissed, his other hand joined the first, both wrapping around Steve's uninjured hand and holding him tight.

When they broke apart, Steve squeezed his fingers around Tony's and kissed him again, once. "I love you too, you know."

"That seems like an extraordinarily bad idea," Tony said, but he was beaming now, rolling his forehead against Steve's, neither wanting to shift farther away.

"Yeah, well, if it gets me into trouble, I've got Iron Man's hotline programmed into my phone."

**

_Three years later..._

Steve pushed himself up on his elbows and started picking at the medical tape stuck to Tony's side. He was sprawled sideways across their huge bed, Tony propped up against the headboard on far too many pillows, tablet in hand. Steve had been napping but wakefulness had snuck back in and he couldn't help peeking at Tony's latest wounds.

The tape loosened, and Tony shifted his tablet aside to peer down at Steve from over the rim of his glasses. "You told me not to pick at those."

"Yeah, you can't. I can. I'm the professional."

Tony snorted. "You're officially a graphic designer. You can't pull that shit on me anymore, sweetheart."

Steve grinned as he examined the cut then smoothed the gauze back over it and re-stuck the tape. "You're healing nicely, Mr. Stark."

Tony pulled his glasses off and tossed them aside with his tablet. He reached down and tugged Steve up until he straddled Tony's hips. Steve bent and kissed him. "Why thank you, nurse Rogers." Tony said, eyelashes fluttering. "I feel like I'm getting the absolute best of care."

"Well, you pay a pretty penny for it, Mr. Stark," Steve replied with a snort, hands wandering up Tony's bare sides to his shoulders.

"JARVIS told me you were listening to his feed during the fight."

Steve shrugged. "Everyone at work thinks I'm listening to a podcast or something. I just like knowing which supplies I'm going to need to glue you back together again."

They fell silent for a while, but Steve could feel Tony shifting uneasily under him. "So," Tony eventually said, too casually, and Steve braced himself. "I guess you won the bet."

"Huh?" There was something new under Tony's voice, something strained, and Steve settled back, the flirtiness gone, concern crawling up his spine. "What bet?"

Tony half rolled and opened the bedside drawer, still talking, ignoring Steve's question. "Yeah... I should have known better. Steve Rogers doesn't back down from a challenge."

Steve opened and closed his mouth as the memory came rushing back. "What are you…?"

"And even I have to admit that half is a pretty big dent in my billions, after all."

"Tony - what?" Steve's throat was tight now, like an asthma attack was in-bound. "Tony - _Tony -"_

Tony found what he was looking for at the back of the drawer and pulled it out. It was a small velvet box.

"Oh my god, Tony."

Tony popped it open with one hand and waved it casually in Steve's direction. "So - yeah."

"Tony, I - _Tony_ \- Tony." Steve stopped trying to grab the box and crossed his arms. "Stop waving it around and let me see it!"

Tony laughed then held out the box for Steve to take. Inside was a simple, gold band. Steve tugged it out and turned it in the light. There was an engraving on the inside of the band, where it would nestle against Steve's skin. _You're home._ Steve's other hand came up to cover his mouth. His eyes cut from the ring to where Tony's were fixed on him, bright and eager. "Really?"

"Marry me?"

"Of course!" Steve shoved the ring on his finger, not even giving Tony a chance to - it was a perfect fit - then bent to press their lips together. Somehow, Steve had everything he'd ever wanted, all at once. "Are you kidding me?"

Tony glowed at him. "Nah - seems like about time I conceded."


End file.
